


Retribution

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Past Abuse, Revenge, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 02:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: “You have no idea how furious I was, how furious I still am. No idea what I wanted to do to him, how I wanted to tear him apart, pull his threads until he frayed and snapped. I wanted to hear him scream. I wanted to hear him plead and beg for your forgiveness, and to see the grim realization when you denied him.”





	Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated ♥

Arkham could be brutal.

Patient confidentiality was supposed to be binding, in theory, but it was no secret the therapists and doctors in Arkham gossiped about their super-criminal patients with no regard to their privacy. Jon had learned that quickly, when certain guards and inmates imitated the cawing of crows in some attempt to upset him soon after he’d told his doctor about his experiences with them. It hadn’t bothered him much, and so had stopped fairly quickly. Things just didn’t get to him, and so it was a waste of time for anyone to try.

Edward’s skin wasn’t as thick. He acted like it was, brushed off insults with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, but Jon knew the words would settle just beneath the surface and fester, sowing toxic seeds planted by his parents long ago. Edward was still young. He still refused to admit how deep-seated his problems were, how vividly the trauma still clung to him. That didn’t mean others couldn’t see it.

It especially didn’t mean others couldn’t use it.

Edward’s personality could be generously described as ‘abrasive.’ He insulted others almost automatically, and certainly did so defensively. Whenever he felt powerless, he fell back on targeting the intelligence of those around him. Arkham tended to leave one feeling constantly powerless. Maybe one or two of the guards enjoyed his riddles, most of them found Edward distinctly irritating. Many seemed to loathe him entirely.

But everyone knew Edward apparently belonged to Jonathan, and many had learned the hard way not to meddle in Jonathan’s affairs, and so Edward was mostly left alone. Or, as much as anyone in Arkham ever was. Arkham staff tended to come and go rather quickly, however, most finding they didn’t have the stomach for the sorts of criminals kept there. Sometimes, lessons needed to be taught anew.

“How come you never have any visitors, Nygma?” A newer guard asked, a mocking edge to his voice that no one in the recreation room missed. Edward looked utterly unimpressed, and didn’t even bother looking up from his book.

“If you need to ask, then you don’t deserve an answer.” He was clearly bored by the guards attempted insult, but Jonathan could feel something in the air that put him on edge, watching the guard closely. It wouldn’t stop there. It never did.

“Just saying, you’d think there’d be someone. Doesn’t daddy know where you are?” And there it was. Edward’s face drained of color, and his knuckles went white where he was gripping his book. “Maybe someone should let him know, huh? I’m sure he’s awful worried. Must be so hard for him to get along without his punching bag.” The guard sighed in mock-sympathy, and the nearly-imperceptible flinch from Edward nearly had Jon out of his chair. Getting himself sent to solitary wouldn’t be good for either of them, he reminded himself. It would just make things worse.

“Really, I don’t think we’re doing any good keeping you here. If we really want you to pay your debt to society, we should just send you home to him. No chance in curing you, but maybe your dad will do a little better with a proper outlet for his anger.”

“If an ‘outlet’ were of any help to him, then he’d have been ‘cured’ years ago.” Edward snapped, finally looking up, unable to keep himself from replying.

“Edward.” Jonathan hissed his name from where he sat nearby, trying to dissuade him from taking the bait. That was a mistake. The guard looked at Jon, then back to Edward, and smiled as if in pity.

“Ah, but I guess you don’t even need to go back. You got it all right here. How long did it take to find the right outlet for your daddy issues, Nygma? Really, I want to know! Did it take just one kind word to have you jump Crane’s bones, or did he need to make a habit of it? I dunno how easy you usually are, Eddie, but I’m sure it’s much easier for those older guys.”

“He is nothing like-!” Edward started, a wild panic in his eyes and shaking visibly. Jon took a breath. Solitary would only hurt Edward. He’d need Jon there after this. He could destroy the guard later.

“Does it help?” The guard interrupted. Edward went silent. “Does he make you feel cared for? Like maybe you didn’t deserve it? Like maybe you aren’t all the things daddy said you were?” Edward’s eyes were watering, shaken, because that much was true. Adding truth made the insults seem more plausible. Jon could hear hissing in the back of his mind.

_Kill him. Kill him right now. He won’t expect it. Bash his brains out against the linoleum floors._

He slid silently from his seat, whispered in the ear of an inmate towards the back of the room, then slowly made his way back towards Edward.

“It’s perfectly natural for someone like you to crave the approval of older men. I mean, Crane isn’t exactly a model, putting it lightly. You can’t possibly be honestly sexually attracted to him. So, what? Do you blow him so he’ll tell you that you did good? Do you let him fuck you so you feel useful to someone? Do you let him hit you so you feel a little more at home-”

“He doesn’t hit me!” Edward stood quickly, book falling to the floor. “He would never lay a hand on me without my say so-!”

“Your say so?” The guard laughed. “Oh, Nygma, I bet you _beg for it_ -” Jon watched as the inmate he’d spoken to launched himself at the guard, knocking him to the floor. Edward was startled and stumbled backwards, only to find a firm hand on the small of his back holding him upright. He looked up at Jonathan, who was watching the inmate and guard pummeling each other, seemingly impassive.

“We need to leave.” Jon spoke, but Edward was already shaking his head.

“I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not.” Jon took a breath. “And if we linger, I will do something everyone in this goddamn building will regret. We need to leave.” He repeated.

Edward went quietly after that, but he wasn’t okay. He continued to not be okay for weeks after the incident. Even when he was functional, he’d have awful nightmares, and the amount of panic attacks he’d have in a day rose dramatically. Jon remained stoic and supportive through it all. He didn’t express the murderous rage he felt towards the guard. Not yet. He could wait. He was so very good at waiting, at holding grudges.

It was nearly a year before the next mass breakout. Plenty of time for most people to forget things, but not Jon. Jonathan Crane never forgot when he was wronged. Maybe he hadn’t been the target of the attack, but that didn’t mean a damn thing. He’d accepted Edward into his life, and that meant anyone who hurt Edward would answer to Crane as well. So, almost immediately after they broke out, Jonathan came home with an unconscious man slung over his shoulder.

“Already?” Edward exclaimed, dropping whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen as he hurried to follow. Jon just kept walking, right into the basement. “I thought we were laying low?!”

“We are.” Jon replied simply, depositing the man onto the repurposed medical examination table. “But I’ve decided to make an exception.”

“An exception.” Edward repeated incredulously, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching Jon move about his laboratory in preparation for whatever he was going to do. “What exactly makes this man worth getting caught over?”

“He isn’t worth getting caught over. But you are.” Jon stopped by the table, the things he would need on a stand nearby, and held out a hand in invitation for Edward to join him. Warily, Edward took that hand and moved to stand beside him, allowing Jon to move an arm around his waist and press a kiss to his hair.

“Look at him.” Jon whispered in his ear, causing Edward to frown despite the attention. He didn’t like not understanding what was happening.

Then he looked, and his face lit up as understanding dawned on him. It was the guard from Arkham. Edward hadn’t forgotten him, but he hadn’t thought it was worth risking their freedom over… Evidently, Jonathan disagreed.

“You have no idea how furious I was, how furious I still am. No idea what I wanted to do to him, how I wanted to tear him apart, pull his threads until he frayed and snapped. I wanted to hear him scream. I wanted to hear him plead and beg for your forgiveness, and to see the grim realization when you denied him.” Edward shivered as Jon spoke, his tone low and dangerous, but darkly intimate as he whispered in Ed’s ear. The words almost sounded like dirty talk, the way Jonathan said them.

“Now,” Jon continued, pulling away to look Edward in the eyes. “You are the injured party. Would you like to be left alone with him?” The idea was appealing… But Edward was entranced. Had Jonathan been that angry on his behalf? Was he really that upset by someone being cruel to Edward? Edward pressed closed and kissed him deeply, moaning when Jon’s hands settled on his hips and pulled Edward flush against him.

“I think,” Edward breathed as he pulled away. “I would much rather watch you work.” He kissed Jon again, heated and fueled by desperate affection. “I want to see what he made you want to do. You painted such a beautiful picture, Jonathan. Show us both what happens to people who cross you.”

The sexual undertones of the situation were a true testament to how deeply disturbed they both were.

Jonathan took Edward’s face in his hands and kissed him gently, a sweet contrast to whatever it was he would do to the man on the table.

“To people who cross _you_ , Edward.”

Ed stayed nearby as Jonathan strapped the subject to the table, and watched as the man began to wake while Jon prepared a syringe of toxin. Their victim looked around frantically, eyes falling on Edward, who simply smiled at him serenely.

“What…? Where am I? What’s going on?” He squinted, as if Edward were much farther away than he really was. “...Nygma?” As soon as he said Edward’s name, there was a quick movement and a loud bang as a knife was driven through his hand, quickly drawn out again and placed back on the table. The man screamed, but Jonathan did not raise his voice when he spoke.

“This will not be pleasant for you either way," he began in an almost bored drawl. "But I promise you, I can make it much worse if you misbehave. So I suggest you pay attention when I tell you: You do not get to speak to him, much less say his name.” He spoke so calmly, so evenly, and Edward shivered as Jon slid the syringe into the man’s neck, injecting the fear toxin with practiced movements.

The twitching was almost immediate, the man jerking and flinching on the table as the two criminals watched in fascination.

“It’s a new formula,” Jonathan began to explain to Edward. “He should not become so far gone that he forgets where he is or who he is with. I want him to know exactly what got him here.” He then addressed the man directly, with a cruel twist of his lips that could almost be called a smile. “I’m going to make sure you are _intimately_ familiar with the reality of your actions.”

He punctuated the word ‘immediately’ by driving a knife into the man’s other hand, twisting it slowly before pulling it out again.

“Please-” The man begged, tears already falling. “Please, please don’t-”

“Do you know what you did to deserve this?” Jon hissed, leaning close as he pushed the knife slowly into the man’s thigh. He savored the scream it earned, and twisted it sharply when he received no response. “Do you even remember what you did?”

The man was wailing, head thrashing from side to side until Jon pulled the knife out. The victim’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, whimpering pathetically.

“I- I don’t know! I didn’t do anything to you!” He cried, but Jon should his head in mock disappointment.

“Not to me, no. No, that’s not why you’re here. You see, you hurt the man I love, and you must know I cannot let that stand.” He spoke as if that were entirely reasonable and expected. As if the whole situation were entirely normal. For Jonathan, it probably was. Surprising the two criminals in the room, the man laughed, albeit hysterically.

“Love?” He sobbed more than laughed. “You’re not fucking capable of love, Crane. No one who does this could possibly love someone.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully, as if considering those words.

“Go on.”

“I- What?” The man choked on his words, wide-eyed and frightened as Crane gestured for him to continue.

“If I don’t love him, what do you suppose this is?”

He was baiting the man, obviously, but the guard couldn’t see a way out of it. If he didn’t answer, he’d just be tortured until he did.

“You- I mean- You’re using him! You know he’s got- got issues with uh- older men, and you’re taking advantage!”

Jon sighed, shaking his head in disappointment and driving the knife into the man’s uninjured thigh. The man screeched, a sound that got so loud when Jonathan twisted the knife that his voice broke under the strain.

“You’re remarkably dull. Did you know that?” He stood back for a moment, looking the man over. “You should be experiencing the heightened paranoia by now, the panic and anxiety. Mild hallucinations. Tell me, what have I done to you so far?”

“I- what?” The blubbering man managed. “You- you-” The man tried to look down at himself from where he was strapped, his eyes widening in horror. “My hands! You cut off my hands!” He cried, and Jon heard Edward laugh behind him. The sound made him smile.

It almost made up for what the man had done. But then, the night wasn’t over yet.


End file.
